Chapter 10 – Itch

After finishing his meal, Fang Ji left. Starting today, he would take Ye Zhou’s place at the restaurant. However, since he wasn’t familiar with purchasing supplies, he would send pictures or videos to Ye Zhou for him to review, and then call Ye Zhou so that he could communicate directly with the suppliers.

By the time Ye Zhou finished his phone calls, it was almost five o’clock, nearing dinner time.

He rarely used the kitchen at home, preferring the one at the restaurant, but he still kept it tidy, storing pots and pans neatly. Although sitting in a wheelchair was somewhat inconvenient, he could still cook for himself, albeit barely. At such times, he was grateful that he had injured his leg rather than his hand. His left wrist still hurt a bit, but it didn’t affect his cooking.

With no rush, Ye Zhou took his time making and eating dinner, enjoying a leisurely evening.

After eating and resting for a while, he watched some television before slowly heading for a shower.

It wasn’t until nine o’clock at night that Ye Zhou heard the sound of the courtyard gate opening. He wheeled himself toward the entrance, opening the door before Guan Heng returned home.

They met face-to-face.

Ye Zhou asked first, “Are you done with your work? I made some late-night snacks, do you want some?”

Ye Zhou’s attitude was open and straightforward, not overthinking it. It was likely just a gesture of gratitude for Guan Heng’s help last night and this morning. Now that he couldn’t do much else, his cooking skills were all he had to offer. However, as he said these words, he felt something was amiss; why did it seem like he was inviting Guan Heng out? Perhaps it was the timing or the location, but those were factors beyond his control since he only saw Guan Heng in the mornings and evenings.

Worried about being misunderstood, he added weakly, “Well…you can take it back to eat if you want.”

Guan Heng gave a light laugh, seemingly unconcerned. “Okay, thank you.”

Ye Zhou asked, “Should I pack it up for you?”

“No need for the trouble,” Guan Heng moved toward Ye Zhou’s house.

Ye Zhou paused, then understood, wheeling himself aside to let Guan Heng enter. Ye Zhou, who couldn’t move quickly in his wheelchair, told Guan Heng, “The snacks are in the kitchen, in the rice cooker.”

Ye Zhou didn’t know when Guan Heng would return, so he had prepared the food and left it in the rice cooker to keep warm. However, Guan Heng didn’t head to the kitchen on his own; instead, he walked behind Ye Zhou, pushing his wheelchair along.

Ye Zhou: “…”

Although Ye Zhou had already eaten, he had to admit that Guan Heng seemed very considerate.

After pushing Ye Zhou to the dining table, Guan Heng opened the rice cooker to find lean meat porridge, steamed egg custard, and a bowl of tomato vegetable soup inside—nutritious and easily digestible foods. There was only enough for one person, clearly prepared with him in mind.

While preparing the late-night snacks, Ye Zhou hadn’t thought too much about it. But now, he felt awkward. Since he didn’t know whether Guan Heng would refuse, he hadn’t dared to prepare too much. But this made it seem like he had ulterior motives.

Guan Heng, however, was very adept at considering others’ feelings, easily defusing any awkwardness. Being around him was comfortable, and listening to him speak was a pleasure.

Guan Heng smiled warmly. “It seems like a lot. Let me share some with you.”

Ye Zhou immediately accepted the offer. “Okay.”

This was the first time Ye Zhou and Guan Heng sat at the same table to eat, even if it was just late-night snacks. Guan Heng ate elegantly and quickly, finishing all the food without leaving any leftovers.

Ye Zhou wondered if Guan Heng could tell that both the lobster from before and tonight’s snacks were made by him. But thinking about it, it seemed unfair to expect him to recognize the connection—it wasn’t a drama series. Reflecting on his thoughts, Ye Zhou found it amusing.

Most of the time, Ye Zhou did most of the talking when they were together, but occasionally, Guan Heng would initiate conversation. “How are you adjusting today?”

Ye Zhou knew Guan Heng was asking about his experience using a wheelchair. He replied, “It’s manageable, once you get used to it.”

He added jokingly, “At least I don’t have to worry about starving to death at home.”

Guan Heng didn’t ask why Ye Zhou lived alone, just as Ye Zhou wouldn’t pry into his private life. Their relationship wasn’t at the level where such questions were appropriate; perhaps there might be an opportunity in the future, but not now. The more mature a person was, the better they understood how to maintain a respectful distance in friendship, refraining from getting too involved without sufficient understanding.

As usual, after finishing his late-night snack and washing the dishes, Guan Heng left without lingering.

Over the next few days, Ye Zhou gradually adjusted to life in a wheelchair. Everything became easier with time. But there was one thing he couldn’t resolve on his own—he could wash his body while bathing, but washing his hair was completely out of the question.

Ye Zhou could occasionally ask Fang Ji for help. But Fang Ji was already busy enough, and Ye Zhou couldn’t bother him with such trivial matters every few days just because they were good friends. That wasn’t how good friends behaved. If Ye Zhou only needed to wash his hair once a week, Fang Ji might be able to make time. But the problem was that Ye Zhou couldn’t wait that long; he was accustomed to washing his hair daily and couldn’t tolerate looking unkempt.

After hearing about Ye Zhou’s dilemma, Fang Ji asked with a smile, “Isn’t there a salon nearby?”

“There is, but it’s not close,” Ye Zhou had considered this option and even searched online. “The closest one is a traditional barber shop—they only cut hair, they don’t wash it. If you want a wash, they’ll just rinse it with water.”

Ye Zhou’s neighborhood was a rezoning area. Besides the new developments built in recent years, older houses still predominated, allowing traditional barber shops to survive. What was strange was that despite the nearby university, neither male nor female students seemed to prefer getting their hair done near campus; they tended to seek out famous and expensive stylists instead.

Fang Ji also helped search online and found that the nearest salon was a few kilometers away. This might not be far for ordinary people, who could walk there. But for Ye Zhou in his wheelchair, it would be arduous and dangerous on the roadside.

Fang Ji didn’t entirely agree with letting Ye Zhou go out alone. After some thought, he asked, “Could you ask the neighbor next door for help?”

Ye Zhou’s first thought upon hearing this was “Don’t joke.” He didn’t dare consider it. But Fang Ji didn’t seem to know Guan Heng’s profession, as Ye Zhou had never told him. Ye Zhou could only bitterly smile. “How could I dare? He’s a college professor.”

Fang Ji wasn’t too surprised; after all, Guan Heng looked like someone with high education. He simply responded, “Even college professors don’t wash their hair or bathe?”

While it was true that everyone had normal physiological needs, this comment was quite inappropriate. Perhaps Ye Zhou viewed Guan Heng through rose-tinted glasses, seeing him as unique. But Ye Zhou still found Fang Ji’s comment amusing. They didn’t reach any conclusions and started chatting about other things.

Time quickly passed until the weekend arrived.

Weekends were usually the busiest time for the restaurant, so Ye Zhou rarely took days off on Saturdays and Sundays. Thus, he completely forgot that regular office workers and teachers had weekends off. So when he woke up early in the morning and didn’t hear the familiar sound of the door opening, he felt puzzled—why hadn’t Guan Heng left yet, had he overslept?

But Guan Heng didn’t seem like the type to oversleep. He was meticulous, organized, and impeccable in his speech, nearly perfect to the point of faultlessness.

Thinking about it, Ye Zhou realized that he had lost all drowsiness, wondering what Guan Heng might be doing today.

It wasn’t until nine in the morning that he heard the sound of the neighboring house’s door opening. Ye Zhou immediately sat up from the sofa, looking toward the courtyard. He saw Guan Heng walking outside in casual clothes, not his usual attire for teaching at school.

Ye Zhou was stunned for a moment, then puzzled for a while longer, before realizing—it was the weekend.

Perhaps because their days off were staggered, Ye Zhou had the illusion that Guan Heng went to class every day. Subconsciously, he had placed Guan Heng on too high a pedestal, viewing him as invincible. But everyone needed rest, even Guan Heng.

Guan Heng probably went out to buy breakfast and returned quickly, not bringing Ye Zhou’s share this time.

Though they still interacted over the past few days, it seemed they had reverted to their previous dynamic. The ambiguity and fleeting excitement from a few nights ago seemed to cool down gradually.

Ye Zhou liked this distance.

Although they stayed in their respective houses, each doing their own things, they could occasionally hear sounds from the neighbors, knowing that they were close by, separated only by a wall. This made Ye Zhou inexplicably happy.

Early in the morning, with nothing to do, Ye Zhou simmered a large bone broth in the kitchen. All he wanted now was for his foot injury to heal quickly, so he wouldn’t have to be cooped up at home and could wash his hair freely.

Although he didn’t need to watch the fire constantly, Ye Zhou had nothing else to do, so he picked up a miscellaneous book to read and pass the time. But when the pot began to emit bubbling steam, it triggered a sort of conditioned response; he subconsciously felt an itch on his scalp, having an urge to bury his head in the pot and wash it.

He hadn’t washed his hair for two days, which was already his limit. Unfortunately, it was a holiday, and Fang Ji was busy, unlikely to have time in the afternoon.

Ye Zhou had never imagined that he would become agitated due to not being able to wash his hair. Suddenly, he remembered Fang Ji’s suggestion…what should he do? Did he really have to ask Guan Heng for help?

But if he didn’t wash his hair today, Fang Ji might not be available tomorrow either, and he would have to wait until Monday…

Ye Zhou: “…”

After agonizing for five minutes, Ye Zhou finally seemed unable to bear it anymore. He went to the living room, found Guan Heng’s business card, and dialed the number listed.